Gilda
by cadenza
Summary: *UPDATED* 2more chapters up and a extra few paras at end of ' Birthday Party'. Trip to a commerce planet brings unexpected guests to Moya. Harsh words, a little bloodshed but plenty of raslak.
1. Prologue: The Human Is Bored

1 Gilda (working title)  
  
Usual dedication, usual disclaimer…  
  
Waffly bit: Enough of angst. Life's too short…but…well…I've always wondered what would happen if…nah shan't spoil the surprise. I'll say only this…imagine an old acquaintance of Moya's occupants reappears and causes…an outbreak of harsh language? Bloodshed probably! So, in one universe, this is what happened…  
  
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Prologue: The Human Is Bored  
  
Crichton wandered along Moya's corridors. He was bored. No one wanted to come out to play.  
  
He'd tried to talk to Aeryn but she had been busy in the workshop and more disinclined than usual to discuss what she was doing. His normally safe 'hey' had been met with "I'm busy, go bother someone else" and her tone had indicated that he would be wise to leave it at that. He'd been given a similar response when he interrupted D'Argo in his chamber. He hadn't come across Rygel so far and he wasn't sure he was desperate enough to search out the Hynerian for company.  
  
He shuffled past the laundry and saw Chiana creating chaos inside. She was tossing clothes into the air and letting them fall in a pickle around her. He went up to her.  
  
"Chi, what are you doing? That's all Aeryn's clean stuff you're throwing on the floor."  
  
They both surveyed the clothes scattered at their feet.  
  
"What? Oh. Yes. I know. I wondered if one of my things had got mixed up with hers but it doesn't look like it. I've already gone through Jools stuff." She pointed to a similar heap on the other side of the laundry.  
  
"Chiana! That's my stuff. What's gotten into you? You better sort this mess out before someone else catches you, like Aeryn. She'll get violent if she sees this."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I suppose so."  
  
Chiana glared around her. She knelt down and began to haphazardly refold the clothes.  
  
"Aren't you going to help me" she asked.  
  
"No Chiana. This is your mess. You tidy it up and you fold my stuff real neat now. Okay?"  
  
Crichton left her to it. He continued his amble around Moya's various tiers. He was so unbelievably bored. He was also plagued by the thought that it'd be his birthday very soon and there'd be nothing to do but watch more space drift by. No beer, no pizza, no party. The others seemed quite content. All of them were totally absorbed in whatever it was they were doing. Even Jools had been walking round looking particularly chipper recently. He needed to have some fun.  
  
"I want to party!" he cried to the walls. "I want to get drunk. I want to get laid."  
  
A DRD came round the corner towards him, stopped, spun round and scurried back the way it had just appeared.  
  
"I want to eat and drink and have a good time with my friends." He was shouting now. "Is that too much to ask? This year, just for a change, I'd like to wake up feeling wrecked because I'd had a frellin' good time the night before." Not because some local alien had decided to use him as that week's punch bag. He'd also like Aeryn to be beside him in bed but that seemed even less likely than beer and pizza at the moment.  
  
He shook his head and went looking for Jools. Jools was always willing to talk. She didn't seem as self sufficient as the others and none of them bothered with her very much. He suspected she was quite lonely. He decided that if her uncharacteristic cheerfulness got too much for him he could always take FS1 out one more time.  
  
He walked into Command to see if Pilot knew where she was. Jools was stood at the main console talking with Pilot. They stopped as he walked over to them.  
  
"Ah Commander. I was about to call you. Moya has identified a commerce planet near by. We have been able to ascertain that they would be likely to have the correct size of amnexis cable seals we need. I would be grateful if you would acquire them for us."  
  
"Of course Pilot. Happy to." He comm'd the others. "Hey you guys, there's a commerce planet coming up. Who fancies a change of scene?"  
  
  
  
To be continued 


	2. Ch1: Retail Therapy

Ch1: Retail Therapy  
  
A couple of arn later and the would be shoppers were all assembled in the docking bay. Chiana stood wrapped in her long travelling coat and Jools had donned a black hooded poncho for the trip. Only Aeryn was missing. Crichton had gone to find her after leaving Command, eager to ask if she'd like to team up with him so they could explore together. She had declined his offer. In point of fact, she had declared she had no interest in wasting time in a tatty market full of unscrupulous merchants and cut- throats. She had also advised that Crichton should stay with the pod so he didn't get into trouble. Crichton had no intention of doing any such thing.  
  
"The pods are ready and I have secured you landing permits. You can go now," said Pilot.  
  
"I only want a couple of things. I'm taking my own transport pod so I don't have to hang round waiting for the rest of you," the Luxan said.  
  
"God idea. We'll take two pods," replied Crichton. "That way if one of us wants to come back early, or stay longer, we can. Chiana, Jools, that okay with you two?"  
  
"That's just fine," said Chiana. "I'm sure Jools and I don't want you and D'Argo hanging around while we trade."  
  
"Ladies, I have absolutely no intention of escorting you around the market while you squabble and haggle over baubles." D'Argo quipped.  
  
"Well!" said Jools, "there's no need to be so rude. Chiana and I are perfectly capable of looking after each other."  
  
Chiana's face fell.  
  
With that D'Argo moved to the pod on the far side of the docking bay. He got inside and started it up. The tail lights flashed on the pod and the engines began to turn. Chiana and Jools got into the other pod and suggested Crichton got a move on.  
  
He declined the offer to join them. He didn't fancy traipsing round behind those two while they shopped. He had a suspicion it could turn nasty and he would rather not have to witness it. Chiana could usually get herself out of most scrapes and Jools only had to scream to deter all but the most determined assailant. He'd enjoy giving FS1's latest modifications a little road test. He turned to get into the module and saw Rygel. He sighed.  
  
"Well I guess it's you and me then Sparky," he said.  
  
"I'm not going."  
  
"Not going Sparky? Passing up a chance to shop? Feeling okay?"  
  
"Chiana has my list," the Hynerian declared. "I have more important things to do with my time," and with a toss of his head, sailed out of the docking bay.  
  
"Come on Crichton," called Jools. "Don't be difficult. Get in. Please."  
  
Aeryn really wasn't coming. Crichton shrugged his shoulders and joined Jools and Chiana in the second pod.  
  
-------------------------  
  
The pods touched down. They appeared to be parked in a field of mud littered with a wide variety of vessels. Pods and craft of all shapes and sizes were landing and taking off every few microts. This was a busy market.  
  
"Okay. This is what we're doing," said D'Argo. "Pilot said it was perfectly safe as long as we stick to the area around the main square. He said we should be able to find everything we want there. Crichton, you're getting the cable seals. Jools, you can come with me for now. You can carry some of supplies we need. We'll take the first pod back."  
  
"What about me," asked Chiana.  
  
"You and Crichton can come back later. You've got Rygel's list to get haven't you. For goodness sake Chiana, I'd have thought you'd have relished the idea of being let loose in a place like this."  
  
Chiana smiled. She did feel the urge for a little private meander through the crowds to see what she could find.  
  
The four of them set off across the muddy field towards the marketplace.  
  
-----------------------  
  
D'Argo and Jools arrived back at the pods an arn later. D'Argo was pulling a low trundle loaded with half a dozen large boxes. They were making slow progress through the quagmire. By the time they made it back to the pod they were tired, cross and extremely dirty.  
  
"I hope you've got everything" said Jools. " I'm not coming back here. I'm going have to bathe as soon as I get back. Look at me!"  
  
"Yes. You look revolting," D'Argo agreed. "Now stop complaining and help me load up. And if anything is missing - you can come back on your own. This is your farbot idea."  
  
They loaded the boxes onto the pod and took off back to Moya.  
  
---------------------  
  
Crichton and Chiana began exploring the market together but the crowds were so dense that they quickly became separated. Neither was particularly worried or disappointed over the outcome. Chiana had been planning to ditch Crichton fairly quickly anyhow but she had also decided he cramped her style. Crichton hadn't enjoyed watching Chiana's approach to bartering and was relieved to be free to explore on his own.  
  
They had agreed before setting off into the market that if they did, by chance, get split up they would meet up again at the same entrance in a couple of arn. Crichton had suggested they meet at the caravan by the ticket booth, the one with the pictures of the menu that gave it an uncanny resemblance to a late night hot dog stand.  
  
Crichton had spent a lot of that time being jostled by the crowd and hassled by street hawkers as he'd made his way along the stalls. Most of them appeared to have customers albeit vociferously haggling ones. Business looked brisk.  
  
He saw stalls selling cable, cloth, jewels, industrial tools, every imaginable kind of weaponry and armour. Crichton was quite tempted by one or two of the items on display. One entire row was given over to food, produce of every imaginable kind lay out in baskets, boxes and crates. There also appeared to be every kind of fast food stall. Some of them even sold things that looked and smelt tempting. Crichton realised how ill equipped he was on his own. He needed someone to tell him what all these things were. He decided he didn't care and bought a bag of something he hoped would turn out to resemble roast chestnuts. He was disappointed but they weren't unpleasant and he continued to munch them as he made his way towards the outer edges of the market. He reached the edge of the square and found himself at the corners of South and West walls. Pilot had said he needed the 22nd stall along West wall.  
  
It was much quieter and there were far fewer people around. Crichton stood back a little and looked down the street at a row of perfectly trimmed potted plants. He began to walk past the various stalls. The stalls along the square walls sold much the same thing as those inside but here they had basements underneath or small warehouses attached at the back. They also had fewer customers and, at a glance, none of them looked like they were haggling over the price. He reached what he hoped was the right place. The front stalls displayed a few items which looked distinctly leviathan to Crichton. He went inside.  
  
----------------------  
  
Mission accomplished, Crichton made his way back to the meeting point. He was early. Chiana was late.  
  
He ended up buying a 'chilli-dog' just to keep the stall's attendant off his back. This had made him the attendant's new best friend. Crichton got the impression not many people bought anything here. He looked around for a bin to discard his purchase. He wished Chiana would hurry up.  
  
She eventually appeared from behind the stall opposite him and came bustling across with several wrapped parcels in her arms.  
  
"Hi. You having a good time?" She nodded towards his new best friend.  
  
"You're late."  
  
"I've been busy. I had a lot to get."  
  
"I got the cable seals."  
  
"That small box there?"  
  
"Yup. The contents of that box are the latest answer to our prayers according to Pilot. Anyway, you want to go back or stay for some more?"  
  
"Long list. I've got a few things to get yet," she said. "Say we meet back here in another couple of arn?"  
  
"No problem. But lets meet at the pod. On time, please."  
  
She grinned.  
  
Chiana picked up his box of amnexis cable seals. "I want to drop my parcels off at the pod before I head back into the fray. I might as well take these as well." She turned away and joined the throng heading towards the main exit.  
  
Crichton called after her, "Chiana, try not to piss anyone off, okay?" 


	3. Ch2: The galley

Ch2: The Galley  
  
Aeryn sat at the food bar. She was chipping tattypoes. Rygel was sat beside her shelling seeper beans into a silver bowl. D'Argo stood watching two large metal pots on the skillet. He was wearing a long blue cloth across his chest, tied with a small knot at the back of his neck. It was splattered with small globules of fat. The work surface around him was similarly strewn with the fall-out from his cooking.  
  
"D'Argo. What is that you're wearing?" Rygel asked. "You look ridiculous".  
  
"So? It's to stop the batter splashing me" he replied.  
  
Is it one of Chiana's bed throws?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Does she know you're using it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Won't she mind?"  
  
"Probably." D'Argo grinned.  
  
Rygel nodded, took a handful of beans from his bowl and shovelled them into his mouth. Several escaped and rolled to the floor.  
  
"Rygel! Stop it!" Aeryn ordered.  
  
"Mmm, what?" he answered, a few stray beans making a desperate bid for freedom from his mouth as he did so.  
  
"Stop eating all the beans. I've been watching you. You've eaten more than's left in the bowl!"  
  
"Haven't."  
  
Aeryn leaned across and poked a small, but perfectly formed knife under his chins. "Have!"  
  
"Okay! Okay! Don't get so excited. It's only a few beans."  
  
"Where's Crichton?" he asked, changing the subject to avoid further scrutiny.  
  
"Pilot's got him running round the Commerce planet looking for amnexis cable. He'll be busy for arns. Chiana promised to get everything else and keep him down there for as long as we needed to get ready."  
  
Pilot cut in. "Er…Officer Sun, Aeryn, the pod just docked. Chiana is on her way here now."  
  
"What! What is she doing? We're nowhere near ready. She said she'd –"  
  
Chiana walked into the galley. She stopped and looked closely at D'Argo.  
  
"You got them?" Aeryn asked.  
  
"What? Oh yes, the she-roos. Yeah, I got them. Got charged way over the odds mind but the trader wasn't budging." She held up her hands, each held a ready plucked bird.  
  
Chiana looked at D'Argo again. "D'Argo? What are you wearing? Is that one of my bed throws?" She walked closer to him.  
  
D'Argo looked sheepish.  
  
"Um. Well…I…Where's John. Is he with you?" he asked, seeking to distract her. It worked.  
  
"No. He's still on the planet. I left him wandering round the market."  
  
"You left him on his own!" cried Aeryn and coloured at the obvious hint of worry in her voice.  
  
"Will he be okay?" queried D'Argo.  
  
"He'll be fine. What harm can he come to?" retorted the Nebari.  
  
The others all shot her looks which clearly said 'we'll pretend you didn't just ask that'.  
  
"Relax. He'll be fine," she said picking a handful of beans from Rygel's bowl. "They were really very friendly." She popped the beans in to her mouth. "Lighten up guys. Crichton's enjoying himself. Exploring the market will keep him amused for several arns yet."  
  
"Where's Jools," asked Aeryn, choosing to ignore the Nebari's raid on the ever diminishing seeper beans.  
  
"Oh, she came back with D'Argo earlier."  
  
"She's doing the decorations," D'Argo confirmed, not looking up as he chopped a slab of white sticky mush into cubes.  
  
"What?"  
  
"She says you can't have a birth day party without decorations. Last I saw she was in Command cutting up some old robe into strips and making chains…"  
  
Chiana's face took on a slightly sick look. "Was it pink?"  
  
"Yes. How did you…"  
  
"…That frelling tralk! That's it. This time she dies. That was my mine. I've been looking for it for days."  
  
Jools chose that moment to walk into the room.  
  
Chiana walked towards the Interon, gently swinging the She-roos at her side.  
  
No one said a word. Everyone kept chopping, peeling, munching….  
  
"So explain to me again", said D'Argo breaking the silence, "what exactly are we doing?"  
  
"It's the anniversary of John's birth. I thought he'd like a little celebration," replied Jools. "It's the custom on his planet. He told me all about it," she added, her voice full of self-satisfied pride at her expert knowledge of the human's customs.  
  
Jools smiled at Chiana and walked over to D'Argo. She looked at the cubes neatly diced in a pile and peered into the pot of batter he was stirring.  
  
"D'Argo, what is this? Is that Rygel's wamelon cake? He's gonna kill you if it is."  
  
D'Argo shrugged. He picked up a long fork, skewered a cube and dipped it into the mixture. He immediately plunged the dripping block into a second pan of bubbling cooking oil. He held it there for a few microts and then, with a flourish of the hand, held it out towards Jools.  
  
She bent her head forward and closed her mouth around it.  
  
Chiana watched, tight lipped.  
  
Jools licked her lips. "This is fantastic D'Argo! What do you call it?"  
  
"Deep fried wamelon cake." He replied.  
  
"What!" shrieked Rygel. He urged his sled up to the Luxan's beaming face.  
  
"You filthy Luxan. You stole my wamelon cake and deep fried it! You, you...", the power of speech briefly left him, "...you barbarian!"  
  
Actually it was Chiana who had appropriated his secret stash several days previous but…  
  
The Luxan picked up a chunk of already battered cake from the work surface and shoved it into the Hynerian's mouth.  
  
Rygel spluttered…chewed…swallowed. His eyes closed for a moment. He smacked his lips. A wide grin appeared on his face.  
  
'Got any more of that?' he asked. 


	4. Ch3: He Never Knew Where He Was Anyway

Ch3: He Never Knew Where He Was Anyway  
  
Crichton wandered through the marketplace. He was having a great time.  
  
After being cooped up on Moya for so long, he would have enjoyed any change of scene but this place was a smorgasbord of weird and wonderful new discoveries.  
  
The stalls he was now passing looked much shabbier than the ones he had just left behind. Rubbish filled the gutters and a smell like rotten eggs permeated the whole area. The street was still bustling with shoppers but Crichton now stood out against them. He hadn't seen anyone who had looked vaguely human, sebacean or interon for at least a half arn. He was starting to get threats from passers-by. He'd also been spat at a couple of times. He decided to ignore it. He continued his exploration. He passed a critter selling critters. He stopped to look at the vorcs. There were three of them chattering to each other from their separate cages. He toyed with the idea of buying one for Aeryn but decided she might not appreciate the gesture. When he reached the triple headed soothsayer he took a sharp left and then turned right into a narrow side street. This couldn't be right. He thought he was following the route back to the main gates, as suggested by the last trader he had stopped to ask, but he had to admit it…he was lost.  
  
He decided to carry on a little further before turning back and asking directions again. He passed a tavern. The door was open. He could see a small group sat around a table laughing and enjoying a drink together. He paused. He could use a drink. He also remembered Pilot and Aeryn's warning that despite their trading reputation, off the main market square, this was a deeply unfriendly place and anyone who looked like a PK could expect to find their only welcome was a swift, sharp blade to the stomach.  
  
Scorpius appeared by his side. "Don't do it John. It's not worth it. They'll kill you."  
  
"Shut up Harvey. I don't need your advice."  
  
"John! This is foolish."  
  
"Harvey, you are not my mother. I'm old enough to make my own decisions."  
  
"Mistakes more like," Scorpius muttered and added something more comfortable, if a trifle flamboyant, on top of his heat protection suit.  
  
"Forget it Harv. You're not coming with me. And certainly not in that shirt," he added.  
  
There was a momentary lull in the conversation as John walked inside or was that just his paranoia? The bar wasn't busy. It only had a few customers: the group of three he'd seen from the street, two more lounging at the counter, a couple sat at the back of the room and one sat alone in a corner, facing the door but hidden in shadow. They all looked local.  
  
The locals in this case were the Chunga and the Gilda. The Chunga were an offshoot of the Hynerians, although all Chunga vehemently denied it, and the Gilda were a race that resembled oversized birds of prey. Mostly, they got on. The market had been carefully carved up into spheres of influence so a semblance of harmony was maintained and profits didn't suffer. The only real trouble came from the two rival cartels that had developed within these boundaries.  
  
Crichton made his way to the bar. He stood beside a chap who looked like an emaciated albino vulture, right down to the moulting white feathers, bald patches of skin and lethal looking claws. A belt of short, sharp knifes completed the picture. Next to Captain Beaky was something that looked like a Hynerian, only ten times bigger and uglier. The Chunga didn't seem to be carrying any weapons, but hell, if it farted like Rygel they'd all be laid out in an instant. Both were wearing brown overalls. The bartender, another underfed vulture, came over and refilled Beaky's mug with a fizzy brown liquid. The Gilda handed over two cronk, the local currency.  
  
The bartender turned to Crichton. "Some of that," he said, pointing to the mug of frothy brown liquid the punter next to him was drinking. A half full mug was slapped down in front of him. "That's five cronk," the barman said and held out his talons. It was either get stiffed as a tourist or refuse to pay. Crichton didn't fancy his chances either way. He paid over the five cronk. The barman looked at him, pocketed the money, and walked to the other end of the bar.  
  
As Crichton lifted the mug to his lips, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Oh no, here it comes, he thought. He held on to his mug and turned, ready to duck if anything vaguely dangerous appeared to be heading in his direction. On this occasion it was a large green fist belonging to a slightly drunk, but extremely prejudiced, Chunga. He dodged to the side, knocking against Captain Beaky and causing the guy to spill his drink. Crichton swung his mug at the attacking Chunga. Of course, it quickly descended into a bar room brawl and Crichton was fighting for his life covered in mud, blood and beer. He was not winning. He wasn't even holding his own. In fact, he was getting horribly beaten...  
  
The green slug, the one who'd first hit him, held him in a rib-crushing grip. He elbowed the Chunga in the stomach. As the hold momentarily loosened, he broke free, only to stagger directly into Captain Beaky's slashing claws. His t-shirt ripped and blood oozed from deep scratches left across his chest by the razor sharp talons. Another Gilda came at him claws outstretched and feathers ruffled. He was joined by two Chunga and, as one, they rushed Crichton. Crichton fell backwards. It crossed his mind that this was a stupid way to die and, perhaps, he should've listened to Harvey after all. He flailed his arms and waited for the killer blow. His head collided with the edge of the table before hitting the stone floor with a solid thud. He blacked out.  
  
"John! John Crichton! Wake up."  
  
John opened his eyes and looked around him. His attackers lay dazed or dead around him. Stood over them was a face he knew: it was Jenavia. She still wore the insignia of the royal household around her neck although the white dress and lurid pink make-up had gone. Now she was dressed in a long brown leather trench coat and pants. She smiled at him.  
  
"Thanks for the help. Again." he said.  
  
She gave a small nod and replied, "If you're going to spend your life being attacked, you really ought to learn to fight better".  
  
"I don't have your advantages," he waved a hand at her stilettos. "Where did you come from?"  
  
"I was sat at the back. I saw you come in."  
  
"What are you doing here anyway?" he said picking himself off the floor. He staggered slightly.  
  
"Well, after the elimination of my megalomaniac fiancé, they reassigned me."  
  
"Not quite as glamorous," Crichton observed.  
  
"John I need to get off this planet. Can you help me?"  
  
He looked at her. She looked back at him. He remembered when she'd helped him. He also remembered the night at the lake.  
  
"Come on," he said. "I don't think we should be here when the cops arrive." He looked around the bar. There were stirrings of life in one or two of the bodies. "Or when this lot wake up," he added.  
  
--------------------------  
  
John had difficulty keeping up with Jenavia as she led the way through the maze of market stalls. His vision kept going out of focus and his body screamed in protest at every step he took and every knock he received. They reached the main exit from the market and, unchallenged, hurried through the gates to the parking lot outside. Crichton felt dizzy and sick but now more confident of where he was going, he led the way to the pod. It wasn't there. In its place stood a gleaming black capsule.  
  
"This is your transport?" asked Jenavia. "I'm impressed."  
  
"Er, no." Crichton looked around. He couldn't see the pod or Chiana. "I'm sure it was here," he said, leaning against the black capsule.  
  
"Maybe you got confused, made a mistake?" suggested Jenavia.  
  
"Well it's gotta be around here somewhere," replied Crichton. 


	5. Ch4: You'll Never Guess Who I Ran Into

Ch4: You'll Never Guess Who I Ran Into…  
  
  
  
Chiana returned the pod to the mud parking lot with an aggressive, but swift, decent. She hadn't landed in exactly the spot where they'd been before but she reckoned it was close enough.  
  
She paced up and down outside the pod. It was impossible to see anyone approaching. She was getting hungry. She was also getting very bored. Where was he? This wasn't like Crichton. He was late. He was never late. She wondered if he'd forgotten he'd insisted on meeting at the pod, perhaps he was waiting for her at the food vending stall, the one that had sold smoked prongo sinew. Chiana was very fond of smoked prongo sinew. She wondered if she couldn't combine the two ideas? As she was about to give in to temptation, a mud covered Crichton staggered into view, swaying slightly as he walked. He had someone with him for support but it was clearly hard work and slow going. Was he drunk? Chiana grinned. Her face fell when she saw the bleeding wounds on his chest.  
  
"You look like dren," she said to Crichton. She gestured to his sweaty, bleeding body and wrinkled her nose. "Aeryn told you to stay out of trouble. She'll blame me for this, I know she will. And why have you got that peacekeeper tralk with you?"  
  
"Hello Chiana. Why did you move the pod?"  
  
"Er, well, it's complicated. I'll tell you later. Is she coming with us?"  
  
"Yes. That a problem?"  
  
"Nope. Not a problem for me," Chiana replied. "The others, maybe," she added to herself with a grin. This was going to be interesting.  
  
--------------------  
  
The pod landed in Moya's docking bay. Crichton felt much better and was looking forward to retelling his adventure, even if, as usual, he was the clown in the story. There was no welcome committee. The hanger was deserted.  
  
"Come on, I'll take you up to the galley," he offered to Jenavia. "I don't know about you but I could use a drink. We've got some excellent fellip nectar or raslak if you'd prefer."  
  
"Yeah, one bottle of each to be precise if D'Argo didn't remember to buy some more at the market," Chiana chipped in.  
  
They walked out of the hanger. Jools met them as they rounded the corner. She stared at Crichton and said, "John, you look dreadful. Aeryn told you to stay out of trouble." She turned her attention to Jenavia, "Who's this?"  
  
"Hi Jools. This is Jenavia, she's, um, a friend of mine."  
  
"Well, you can bring Jenavia with you to the med lab while I try to patch you up. Those cuts look nasty."  
  
"Yes mom."  
  
-------------------  
  
Crichton sat on the bed, t-shirt off, having his cuts dabbed with concentrated antiseptic by a tutting Jools.  
  
He winced. "Ow."  
  
"Quit complaining. This will stop them becoming infected."  
  
D'Argo walked in. "How are you?"  
  
"How am I? Well, my chest stings like crap, my head hurts like hell and my favourite t-shirt's ruined. Otherwise, great. Thanks for asking."  
  
"Was it worth it?"  
  
"No."  
  
He reached out and took the fresh t-shirt D'Argo had brought for him. He put it on, grimacing as the material touched his sore body.  
  
"Where's Aeryn?"  
  
"In Command, checking you weren't followed. I've come to take Jenavia to her accommodation."  
  
"D'Argo, you are not going to lock her up." He looked at Jenavia, leaning against the counter opposite. She was looking at D'Argo. It was not a friendly look. Jenavia switched her attention back to Crichton. Crichton got off the bed. There would definitely be bloodshed if he didn't sort things out pretty damn quick.  
  
"What's bugging you man?"  
  
"You brought her on board Moya without consulting any of us."  
  
"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't think. But I had to, really. It'll be fine."  
  
D'Argo did not look convinced. His tongue flashed out and hit Jenavia in the neck. Her face briefly registered surprise before she slumped unconscious to the floor.  
  
The Luxan reached down and picking up a limp arm, began dragging the Sebacean out of the med lab.  
  
"D'Argo!"  
  
"What now? I haven't killed her. What else do you want?"  
  
"Pick her up, please," Crichton sighed.  
  
D'Argo looked at his friend and frowned. Nonetheless, he picked up the PK. He carried her to the cells flopped over his right shoulder.  
  
-----------------------------  
  
By the time D'Argo rejoined the others in Command the argument was in full swing. Pilot was speaking. He had interrupted an exchange of insults to convey Moya's concern to Crichton.  
  
"Moya is worried that we might be recaptured. So am I. We simply do not understand it Commander. Why did you do it? Why do you care about that Peacekeeper?"  
  
good question "Guys, it's okay. I trust Jenavia." Crichton caught Aeryn's eye and wished he hadn't.  
  
"Oh! You trust her," she said.  
  
Rygel rose up in his sled until he was level with Crichton's face. "Crichton, I'll put it simply so that even an imbecile like you can understand it. She is a Peacekeeper. We are supposed to be hiding from the Peacekeepers. Or had you forgotten that?"  
  
"I told you. She needed my help."  
  
"Not a very good Peacekeeper if she needed your help," muttered Aeryn.  
  
Crichton ignored the interruption. "She'd just saved my life. Again. She's already had ample opportunity to turn me over if that was what she wanted."  
  
"What about the others?" asked Pilot. "What about Ka D'Argo? Or Officer Sun? They are wanted by the peacekeepers too."  
  
"You should have asked us," D'Argo rebuked Crichton.  
  
"And what would you have said?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"John, be sensible," pleaded Aeryn. "You don't know what she did on the commerce planet. What if she decides to go for promotion and bring us in as well?"  
  
"She won't."  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
"Crichton the fact remains that you put us all in this position. What do you intend to do about it?" D'Argo demanded.  
  
"What's Jenavia going to do when we drop her off somewhere? Had you thought of that? What's she going to tell them? After all, this isn't Gilena we're dealing with here," Aeryn added softly looking at Crichton.  
  
He looked back at her. The situation could be trickier than he'd anticipated. It dawned on him that if he wasn't careful, things could go very, very wrong. He might have made a mistake, a terrible mistake. "I still think we should let her out," he said.  
  
"For the last time John, that is a bad idea," said D'Argo.  
  
"No. I'll get her. You can ask her yourselves."  
  
Jools walked in. She either didn't notice the tension between the others or simply chose to ignore it. "Everything's ready," she announced.  
  
"That is a bad idea," D'Argo repeated to Rygel, watching Crichton leave Command to collect Jenavia from the containment cells on tier seven.  
  
"There's going to be trouble," agreed Rygel.  
  
  
  
To be continued 


	6. Ch5: An Interview With Jenavia

Ch 5: An interview with Jenavia  
  
Crichton marched to the cells, a DRD trailing him. He was cross. He was cross with the others but mostly he was cross at himself. He hadn't given a great deal of thought to how everyone else would react to Jenavia's arrival. He'd known they wouldn't like the idea of her being on Moya. They weren't the most trusting bunch so they were bound to need a little reassurance, but he hadn't anticipated this much opposition. They knew that it was Jenavia who had saved his head from Scorpy at the acid pit; Jenavia who had put him back together again and kept him safe while he recovered. He trusted her. It was probably dumb but he couldn't help it. They had negotiated a pact of mutual assistance. He believed it still held. How could he explain it so that the others would understand or at least go along with it? He stopped. The DRD bumped into him. How to explain it without dropping himself in very deep dren with Aeryn. That particular minefield hadn't previously occurred on him. There might be nothing spoken going on between them but Crichton had a strong suspicion that the news of his recreation with the disrupter wouldn't go down well. He had done what he had to. He still wasn't sure he was entirely happy with his actions either, not that it hadn't been great. A very welcome relief after, he didn't want to think how long. He had just survived a shot gun wedding, statudom, decapitation, an acid facial and a close encounter of the Scorpius kind. That did not make for a good day; that made for a frelling awful day. He had been in desperate need of help, an ally, somewhere to forget all his troubles. He would've so preferred it had been Aeryn.  
  
When he had gone to see her, before her leg was reset, she had listened in silence to the short summation of his adventures as a married man. She hadn't picked him up on any points or asked for any more detail. She had also refused to discuss what she and whatever-his-name-was had talked about in the barren lands. She had simply replied, "his shortcomings as a climber," and hobbled away. And, after that sweet kiss at the prowler, the princess episode had never been raised again, by either of them.  
  
Crichton himself tried not to think of it too often or the daughter he would never see. Even now it caused his throat to dry and his hands to clench. The DRD nudged his ankle and he began walking again.  
  
Jenavia was awake when Crichton got to the cells. She was sat at the back of the compartment, legs crossed and a scowl on her face. Her features softened when she saw him. She smiled.  
  
"Hello John. Come to visit the prisoner? Are you going to interrogate me? Where's the savage Luxan?"  
  
Crichton pulled a face and said, "I see you've recovered."  
  
Jenavia folded her arms and tilted her face towards him.  
  
John sat down beside her and put on his 'we need to talk' face. "Jenavia, what exactly were you doing on that planet?"  
  
"I was sent to assassinate someone."  
  
Crichton looked slightly taken aback. "Oh. You succeeded?"  
  
"Of course." Jenavia appeared surprised by the question.  
  
"And that's why you needed to get away?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Who exactly did you kill?"  
  
"Daltar. Unpleasant character but very strong. And careless." Jenavia smiled. "He was a high ranking member in one of the market cartels. Gilda."  
  
"Why did the peacekeepers want him dead?"  
  
Jenavia decided to trust Crichton with the truth. "They didn't. I've gone freelance."  
  
"Freelance? So who hired you then?"  
  
"The Chunga."  
  
"Explain?"  
  
"The Chunga wanted a bigger share of the market but the Gilda wouldn't agree. So -."  
  
"So the Chunga decided to apply a little persuasion," he finished for her.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did it work?  
  
"I don't know. That's not my concern."  
  
"The others aren't gonna like it. I don't like it."  
  
"John, I was not going to spend my life rotting on that miserable royal planet. This is what I do. It's what I'm good at. One of them anyway," she added, moving ever so slightly closer to him.  
  
"Can I trust you?" he asked, moving back from her, just a little bit.  
  
"You got me off that nak nak infested dren hole. I appreciate that."  
  
"One more thing, how come you couldn't get away?"  
  
"There was a disagreement over payment. Things got a bit tense. My transport was a casualty."  
  
"Jenavia, what happened, exactly?"  
  
"They refused to pay the fee we'd agreed."  
  
He was incredulous. "They stiffed you? What did you do? How many did you kill?"  
  
Jenavia laughed. "None John. I'm a professional."  
  
"So you left without being paid?" Crichton didn't think that likely.  
  
"A solution presented itself. The situation was resolved." She lent back from him, uncrossed her legs and let her arms fall into her lap. "Remember, I no longer work for the peacekeepers. I'm not here to subdue, capture or kill any of you if that's what you're worried about?"  
  
Crichton believed her. He decided the interview was over and stood up. "To hell with the consequences," he said. "Come on, the others won't like it, but hey it's almost my birthday. How 'bout that raslak I promised you?" 


	7. Ch6:The Birthday Party

Ch 6: The Birthday Party (…not exactly Pinter.)  
  
  
  
A sea of pink streamers hung from the overhead cables in the galley. Chiana clenched her fists as she walked in and discovered the fate of her robe. The Interon would pay dearly for that. She grabbed a bottle of raslak, poured herself a full goblet and slumped beside D'Argo. On the other side of her, Rygel was already tucking into a bowl of ripe Cholian curd salad. Aeryn was sat next to him. She and D'Argo were passing the seeper beans between themselves and discussing Jenavia in less than complimentary terms. Chiana supposed her own arrival had been greeted in similar fashion. She decided to be nice to Jenavia. Jenavia came across as a smart, capable operator and Chiana approved of that. And besides, Chiana smelt trouble, fun trouble, and she could never resist that.  
  
D'Argo's voice boomed out. "He's farbot. The bump on his head killed what little sense he had. It's the only explanation. What the frell he was thinking?"  
  
"I've been stuck in here for the past eight arns helping get this, this party ready for him," said Aeryn. "I don't know what he was thinking, if he was thinking?"  
  
D'Argo snorted. "I do." He saw the fleeting look of uncertainty that betrayed Aeryn's feelings towards their human companion. "I mean I'm sure he wouldn't, not with you, with her and, anyway he-"  
  
"Stop!" commanded Aeryn.  
  
"Better if he did," remarked Rygel his mouth full of half chewed salad. "Keep her out of my way. But is Crichton up to the job? She's a frelling peacekeeper and she's cunning. She should not be trusted and he is a trusting fool."  
  
"I agree," said D'Argo. "He's bound to frell up."  
  
"She did save his life on the royal planet," Chiana reminded them.  
  
"That was then. How do we know we can trust her now? What does she get out of it?" answered Aeryn.  
  
"Crichton trusts her," said Chiana.  
  
Aeryn's face furrowed slightly. "Hmm," she said.  
  
"Yes. The human trusts her. Reason enough to be worried," sighed Rygel. "Pass me the raslak, Chiana, and the seeper beans please."  
  
"Crichton will insist she joins the party," she informed them. "You know he will."  
  
"At least if she's here we can keep an eye on her," Aeryn rationalised. Her tone indicated that she would be keeping a very close eye on their unexpected visitor.  
  
"True. Hardly ideal though," D'Argo responded gloomily.  
  
"If we insist on locking her up he'll get all moody and it'll spoil the party," chided Chiana. "We've worked so hard to do this thing right for him. Let's not spoil it now."  
  
Jools walked in. She had added an extremely large, black, studded bow to her hair. "John's on his way. Now, when he gets here, I want you all to leap up, shout 'surprise' and do this." She gave a small bunny jump and threw her hands up in the air.  
  
The others stopped whatever they were doing, turned to face Jools and, as one, replied, "What?"  
  
Aeryn opened a bottle of raslak and took a quick sip. "You want us to do what?"  
  
"Has he got the peacekeeper with him?" D'Argo asked.  
  
"Of course. Aeryn, it's part of the custom. Hasn't he told you about that?" Jools added.  
  
Aeryn shot the Interon a look that should've melted flesh.  
  
"Anyway," continued Jools oblivious, " as John explained it to me-,"  
  
Crichton walked in with Jenavia. He stopped when he saw the decorations. He turned to the group sat at the table. He was confused.  
  
"Aeryn, guys, what's going on?"  
  
"Surprise!" cried Jools.  
  
Crichton turned to the exuberant Interon. "Jools? What is this?"  
  
"It's a surprise party for you," she said, arms folded and smiling happily at him. "You didn't guess did you? Oh good. I did it."  
  
"We did it," corrected Chiana. "Happy birthday, John."  
  
Crichton was stunned. He was also deeply touched by his friends gesture. He talked so often about the things from home he missed, knowing that most of the time they weren't listening, that it meant nothing to them and that they were fed up hearing about it. He had even tried, disastrously on occasion, to recreate some of them himself. Valentine's Day hadn't gone quite according to plan and Thanksgiving had been an unmitigated disaster. Crichton was rather chuffed that they were prepared to risk another fiasco on his behalf. Mind you, anything was going to be better than his last birthday. He had walked with a limp for weekens after.  
  
He had tried to get everyone to take a ride to the pleasure planet they were passing but no one else wanted to go. Not D'Argo, not even Chiana. Too dangerous they said. So, that night, not dead yet, he'd snuck out and taken FS1 on a little excursion. His feet had barely touched land before he was attacked. Beaten unconscious and left for dead, he had only been saved because Aeryn had discovered he was missing. She hadn't been very sympathetic when she'd found him and he was convinced it was her brutal treatment, getting him into her prowler, that had dislocated his shoulder. She'd also managed to crash his module on bringing it back aboard Moya. It had taken almost a quarter of a cycle to finish all the repairs and modifications that had caused. The damage to the landing bay had been minor in comparison. Crichton would never understand how such a brilliant pilot as Aeryn could have such difficulty flying, or landing, as she had pointed out, his primitive ship. He had not witnessed her fly his module first into one wall and then another before setting it down on Moya. He also missed her complete composure throughout the manoeuvre.  
  
Crichton looked at the small group around him and smiled. "Thanks guys. Wow. This is impressive. I don't know what to say." He remembered Jenavia, stood beside him. He felt a pang of guilt. "Um, I bought Jenavia to talk to you. We may as well get this sorted now."  
  
"So Peacekeeper, why should we help you?" demanded D'Argo.  
  
"I saved your friend's life. I also saved your lives."  
  
"Not by choice," Rygel snapped.  
  
"I saved his life again today. That's twice."  
  
"We've saved his life countless times," countered Aeryn. "You obviously don't know John very well. He's always getting himself into trouble."  
  
"Aeryn! That's not true." Crichton tried to counter his portrayal as an incompetent idiot. "It's not always my fault," he finished lamely.  
  
Aeryn ignored him. "How do we know you won't betray him now?"  
  
"Or the rest of us?" challenged Rygel.  
  
"I'm no longer a peacekeeper."  
  
Aeryn looked shocked. She stood up and walked up to the former disrupter. She stood directly in front of Jenavia and asked, "Not a peacekeeper? Why not?"  
  
"Why aren't you?"  
  
Aeryn's eyes flashed and her whole body tensed.  
  
"Whoa." Crichton stepped in. "Jenavia, try to be civil. Aeryn, let her explain, please?"  
  
He had been right. They didn't like it but they had, eventually, accepted it. Jenavia would stay with them until the next inhabited system. She had as much reason as the rest of them to avoid any contact with the peacekeepers. And once the DRDs had fitted the new amnexis cable seals he'd bought, Moya would be able to starburst away from the market and any faint chance of the Gilda or Chunga discovering her whereabouts.  
  
It had been Chiana who had unexpectedly saved the day. She had pointed out that they had let her stay when they knew little about her and they still didn't know if she was a murderer or not. "Well are you?" D'Argo had asked. Chiana had smiled, taken a spoonful of Cholian curd salad and refused to be drawn.  
  
---------------------------  
  
They all sat around the table. Every inch was covered in food and bottles of raslak and fellip nectar. Crichton had placed himself beside D'Argo rather than next to Aeryn. Aeryn had looked a little put out but he had figured it was safer to keep Jenavia away from the Luxan. Jenavia had sat beside him with Aeryn on her other side. It wasn't ideal but he decided Aeryn was slightly less likely than D'Argo to kill their guest.  
  
Conversation was stilted. It consisted mostly of Rygel asking for various bowls of food to be passed to him and Aeryn probing Jenavia about her employers and why they had hired her. This was not quite the party any of them had anticipated.  
  
Crichton stood up and filled everyone's goblet with raslak. He raised his own cup. "A toast," he said. "To my friends, with a very big thank you." The others drank. "Right," he said looking at the she-roos in the centre of the table. "What are those and can I have some please?"  
  
"She-roos," said Jools. "They're very popular back on my home planet. They need carving though," she said. "The skin's very tough but the meat underneath just melts in your mouth. We'll need really sharp knives."  
  
"May I?" asked Jenavia.  
  
Jools nodded.  
  
Jenavia flicked her wrists, stuck a stiletto deep into one of the crisp, golden she-roos and in a few microts had expertly carved up the birds.  
  
"Who's for loomah," she said looking straight at Crichton.  
  
D'Argo smirked. Chiana cast a sideways glance at Aeryn and choked on her raslak. Aeryn did not look amused. Crichton let manners go to hell. He put his elbows on the table and his face fell into his hands. He sighed. There was going to be hell to pay later.  
  
Pilot's voice interrupted the scramble for food. "A craft has just asked permission to dock," he informed the diners.  
  
"A craft? What sort of craft?" Chiana asked.  
  
"Are they dangerous?" added Rygel.  
  
"It has weapon capability. I do not think they are able to cause serious harm but they can hurt us."  
  
"Pilot, who are they?" asked Aeryn.  
  
"They identify themselves as representatives of the citizens of the commerce planet. They are Gilda."  
  
"Dren," said Jenavia.  
  
D'Argo was on his feet in an instant. He snarled at Jenavia and turned to Crichton. "Now look what you've done," he hissed. "Pilot, what do they want?"  
  
"They will not say. They keep repeating that they come with a proposition to our advantage and wish to come on board to put their offer to us in person," replied Pilot. "They say they do not wish us harm but they will fire on us if their request is not granted. I am afraid they mean it."  
  
D'Argo shook his head in disbelief and began barking orders. "Chiana, go to Command and help Pilot. I'll go to the docking bay to meet them."  
  
"I'm coming with you," said Crichton.  
  
"You've done enough already. You should stay and keep an eye on the undoubted cause of our trouble," replied D'Argo giving Jenavia another angry glare.  
  
Jenavia offered the Luxan a sneer in return.  
  
"I'll escort our guest back to her quarters for safekeeping," said Aeryn with a sideways glance at Crichton. "Now go, and for Cholak's sake, get rid of them."  
  
Jenavia gave Aeryn a brief glance before she turned to Crichton and asked, "Is this what you want?"  
  
"Jenavia, go along with it please, for now. It'll be okay, I promise."  
  
Aeryn looked at Crichton. Her face was impassive but her cheeks were slightly flushed and her eyes were dark. She stood and motioned for Jenavia to join her.  
  
D'Argo and Crichton hurried out of the galley, the Luxan cursing under his breath at his stupidity for letting the peacekeeper stay when he knew only too well that peacekeepers always meant trouble. Rygel followed them, pausing only to grab a leg of she-roo on his way out.  
  
Jools sat alone at the table. "What about me?" she said. "What about the party?" 


	8. Ch7: The Gilda have landed

Ch7: The Gilda have landed  
  
Aeryn and Jenavia walked side by side through Moya's corridors towards the containment cells. Neither spoke. They exchanged stealthy glances instead. A DRD followed a short distance behind them. It was One Eye.  
  
Jenavia spoke first. "You don't trust me do you?"  
  
"Would you trust me if our situations were reversed?" Aeryn countered.  
  
"No," replied Jenavia.  
  
They relapsed into silence until Aeryn asked ,"what was it like working undercover?" She realised she was genuinely interested. It was an area of Peacekeeper Command she knew very little about. Disrupters were the shady ghosts of Special Ops and rarely discussed. They were the elite of the elite. There would be occasional rumours that a particular victory had been due to their covert work but that was all. You didn't apply. They came to you, with an offer you didn't refuse. Aeryn had never knowingly met a Disrupter other than Jenavia.  
  
"It was exhilarating, always watching your back and constantly expecting to be discovered," the former disrupter answered. "There's very little that comes close to giving you anything like the same buzz," she finished with a wide smile. "It could get pretty grim at times though. I spent a large part of my career being assigned to cases where I was surrounded by lesser species. Not my idea of fun but you do your duty and make the best of it. It helps if you're good at it and I was very good."  
  
"So you don't get any say in your assignments?" This was more of a statement than a question. Aeryn knew to her own cost that personal preferences rarely counted for anything with High Command.  
  
Jenavia chuckled and shook her head. "You saw Clavor. Vapid excuse of a Sebacean that he was. Hardly an inspiring choice of life partner. I'm just sorry that it was the Scarren who killed him and not me. But even that job had compensations and moments of pleasure," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "like John, for instance. Very rewarding. I'm looking forward to getting reacquainted with him."  
  
Aeryn's mouth formed a weak smile in return. Her eyes remained cold. "Yes. John can be very, um, diverting".  
  
"You've recreated with him too?" asked Jenavia. "I got the impression, well I suppose in a crew this limited you must have?"  
  
Caught by surprise she replied stiffly, "John and I are ship mates. Personal indulgences can fracture a small crew." Right now, she hated that phrase.  
  
"True, but believe me, you don't know what you're missing," Jenavia informed her.  
  
Aeryn's eyes narrowed as she looked at the woman beside her. Her hand automatically tightened around her pulse rifle.  
  
Aeryn held her breath. Memories of that one night with John exploded in her mind. She knew what she was missing. Slowly, she exhaled and let the tension flow out of her muscles. She pushed the thoughts away. They clouded her judgement and made her unsure of herself.  
  
"So why did you quit?" she asked in what she hoped was a normal voice. She quickened her pace slightly.  
  
Jenavia fell into step again. "The powers that be wanted to leave me there," she scoffed. "After Cargyn had crisped my intended, I sent in my final report and asked for fresh instructions. Nothing came back. I didn't think anything of it at first. I put it down to a frell up back at base. Messages were always getting lost or caught up in the backlog of communiqués. After three monen I sent off a second request. When I did eventually get a reply it simply said 'Permanent reassignment to Royal Planet'." Jenavia paused giving Aeryn an opportunity to comment. Aeryn said nothing. Jenavia gave a slight shrug at the lack of response and resumed her story. "I was a good operative. I had an unblemished record with an almost perfect score card. They couldn't do that to me!" Jenavia's voice was raised and her cheeks were flushed as she recalled her reward for loyal service. "I was not prepared to waste the rest of my life being despised and ignored by a bunch of in-bred breakaways who thought they were so superior to me. Drove me farbot. I was being suffocated. So I left. It wasn't difficult and I've been doing very nicely thank you, until this bunch of losers decided to frell about with me."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
A small white transport pod with a long pointed nose and fanned tail set down in Moya's aft-side docking bay. It landed on eight spindly legs. A hatch swung open on the underbelly and two Gilda stepped out. Both wore belts filled with daggers and one also carried a small metal chest. They looked around the hanger before fixing their attention on the weapons being pointed at them by D'Argo and Crichton. A single white feather fluttered to the floor.  
  
"We've come only for Jenavia Chatto. We will pay you for her," said the shorter of the two. His almost bald companion nodded and held up the box he was carrying.  
  
Rygel appeared from behind a large oil drum. He pushed his sled forward and beamed at the delegation. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said.  
  
"Shut up Rygel," Crichton growled.  
  
The short Gilda looked from one to the other. He turned to Crichton. "I am Baltaran. I come as authorised negotiator of my people." The Gilda bowed slightly to him and then the rest of the assembled crew. "This is my associate Boztan," he gestured to his bald compatriot.  
  
"Hi. I'm John Crichton," said Crichton. "We're really not in the market to trade."  
  
"You have the assassin. We will pay you a fair price for her."  
  
"No. There are no assassins here," said Crichton automatically. He bent down to Rygel's ear and whispered, "one wrong word from you buckwheat and you're bird seed!" Turning back to the Gilda he asked, "Why do you believe we have this person?"  
  
"We have information. She was seen leaving on a transport pod registered as coming from this leviathan."  
  
"Well I assure you she's not here."  
  
"You lie!" Daltaran cried, putting a claw to his belt of knifes.  
  
D'Argo snarled and started to pull up his qualta blade.  
  
"No. Your information is wrong," Crichton quickly interjected.  
  
The Gilda briefly conferred between themselves.  
  
"That is unlikely, but possible. We would like to search your ship to make sure," Baltaran declared.  
  
"No frelling way," said Rygel. " I've been there, done that and I am not having anyone in my body but me!"  
  
Both Gilda look confused.  
  
"Give us a moment to consider your request," said Crichton, shoving his elbow into Rygel's face.  
  
Crichton, D'Argo and Rygel moved a short distance from the two Gilda and huddled together for a short conference, all the while keeping a close eye on what their visitors were doing. The Gilda did not seem troubled and stood unmoving by their pod.  
  
"John, why are you doing this? We should just hand over the frelling peacekeeper and be done with it," said D'Argo.  
  
"I can't do that. I owe her. I know she killed one of their guys and that I really should hand her over, but I suppose, I don't want to think of her in trouble on her own," Crichton tried to explain. He wasn't making a very good job of it.  
  
D'Argo rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you'd rather she was in trouble with us. Fantastic."  
  
"This ex-peacekeeper assassinated one of their people. She knew the risks. Why put ourselves, and Moya, in danger for the likes of her?" asked Rygel.  
  
"I know. I know," he repeated spreading his hands. "Please guys? It's something I just have to do. I promise never again. Okay?"  
  
D'Argo shook his head but didn't raise any more objections.  
  
Rygel sighed. "I had better stay me, that's all," he said.  
  
"Guys, there are two of 'em. How much trouble can this be?" Crichton pointed out, trying to reassure his friends.  
  
"I wish you hadn't said that," Rygel responded.  
  
Crichton ignored the Hynerian and comm'd Aeryn, "Aeryn, slight change of plan. The Gilda want Jenavia."  
  
"I'll bring her to you," Aeryn replied. She didn't sound surprised by the news.  
  
"No. I've told them she's not here but they don't believe me."  
  
"That's because she *is* here," said Aeryn, a note of irritation in her voice.  
  
Crichton inclined his head but kept his own voice slow and steady as he replied, "I know that Aeryn. They want to search Moya. Can you hide her somewhere so they won't find her?"  
  
There was a pause before Aeryn said, "okay Crichton, but then I'm coming up there and you are going to tell me exactly what is going on." There was an edge to her voice that did not permit dissent.  
  
Crichton turned back to the Gilda. "If we let you search our ship will you leave us alone?" he asked.  
  
"Of course. If we find you are lying, however, there will be consequences," replied Boztan.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's get on with it. Where do you want to look first?"  
  
"I will show them around," said D'Argo. "I suggest you," he added, addressing Crichton, "go and have that little chat with Aeryn." He grinned. "Perhaps she can knock some sense into you."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Aeryn turned to Jenavia and said, "okay, you heard what John said. Time for plan B. She comm'd Pilot and smiled at the answer he gave to her question. "Right, let's move it. Follow me."  
  
"So where are we going now?" Jenavia asked.  
  
"Pilot believes the safest place for you is probably in one of Moya's flush sluice pipes. They're very hard to access so if we can get you into one, you should fine," Aeryn explained.  
  
Jenavia wrinkled her nose but said nothing. They continued in silence.  
  
They had reached one of Moya's main access shafts. Aeryn opened the hatch and gestured Jenavia inside. She closed the hatch behind them and moved into the narrow dark corridor. They travelled in silence through the maze of tubes for about a quarter arn.  
  
"We must be nearly there," remarked Jenavia.  
  
"Yes, how did you know?" asked Aeryn, slightly surprised. There weren't many non-tech peacekeepers who knew the inside layout of a leviathan that well.  
  
"Had to study them for a job once. I presume we're heading for an unused funnel?"  
  
Aeryn coughed. "Well, it should be but Pilot's been having a few glitches recently so he wasn't a hundred per cent certain."  
  
"Oh great. This suit will be ruined," sighed Jenavia.  
  
Aeryn peered at Jenavia. "So?"  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Aeryn clambered out of the funnel. She looked down at herself. Her hands, arms and face were smeared with dren, literally. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hands clean on the seat of her pants. She reached down and with a grunt slammed the hatch back over the cylindrical opening. She twisted the handle sealing Jenavia into the waste unit. She lent against the shaft wall and took a deep breath. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away with a shake of her head. This was irrational. She had no right to claim John Crichton so why was she so upset by the news that he had once recreated with Jenavia Chatto. It would've been over a cycle ago and so much had happened since then. Surely she had no reason to fear this woman.  
  
John had told her he loved her and she had told him that she loved him. But she had refused to act on it, at least not in the way he had so clearly wanted. She did kind of regret that, sometimes. She had never had, as John called it, a 'proper relationship'. From what he had told her and what she had seen herself, they appeared no less painful than the casual encounters favoured by Peacekeepers. But it still occasionally kept her awake at night, wondering if she had been wrong. Stupid really, it never helped. All it did was to propel her towards his quarters, never to quite make it. She would always bottle out at the last moment. Was she that afraid of the consequences?  
  
And now John seemed so very keen to protect Jenavia. Why? Was there more to it than he was admitting? And if there was, did she have the right to object? Aeryn knew the answer to that one. Three years of saving his butt gave her the right, that and the fact that she loved him. If John Robert Crichton was going to recreate with anyone it was going to be her! She squared her shoulders and began making her way back to Moya's main deck. John liked to talk, well she'd ask him about it. She stopped. What if she didn't like what he told her. She shook her head and decided emotional attachments really did frell with your mind. One thing at a time. Deal with the Gilda first.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Crichton joined Chiana and Pilot in Command. He wondered where Aeryn had hidden Jenavia. She knew the leviathan better than anyone except Pilot so if anyone could find a place to keep the disrupter safe, it was her.  
  
Pilot's voice broke into his thoughts, "Commander, another vessel requests permission to dock."  
  
"Who is it now, Pilot?" he asked with a sigh. "Did Jools send out invitations for this party?" 


	9. Ch8: The Accomplice

Ch9: The accomplice  
  
The Chunga had arrived. They had followed the Gilda and were furious at having to leave the ground. They did not enjoy space travel. It made them nervous and played havoc with their stomachs, giving them dreadful wind.  
  
Pilot put them on visual. "Why they do look just like Rygel," he cried in delight. "They must be related. Look Commander. Shall I ask Rygel to come up there with you?"  
  
"No pilot. We don't need Dominar Fluffy up here causing us any more trouble," Crichton answered.  
  
"That's a little unfair don't you think John? After all, all this is really because of what you did," Chiana pointed out. She slouched against a pillar and beamed at Crichton. "Now, go find out what they want."  
  
Crichton wanted to contradict Chiana but, after a moments reflection, thought better of it. He shook his head and turned to the display unit. Three Chunga filled the screen. The one in the middle, distinguished by a purple triangular cap on his head, opened his mouth to speak. Command was filled with an incomprehensible high pitched squeal. Crichton put his hands over his ears.  
  
"Pilot! Can you do anything?" He had to shout to be heard over the noise.  
  
"Trying now. I'm attempting to adjust the frequency." Pilot moved his claws rapidly over his flashing console.  
  
"…so we insist you allow us to send a delegation to discuss terms. We will have restitution."  
  
"I assume they want Jenavia, but why?" asked Chiana. "They short-changed her so they should be the ones in hiding," she added with a grin.  
  
"Pilot, I assume this lot can also hurt us if we don't let them come aboard?" Crichton asked.  
  
"Yes Commander, although their weapons are a little unconventional."  
  
"Unconventional. What do you mean?" queried Chiana.  
  
"Moya informs me that the Chunga carry a variant of greengusgunkus."  
  
"And what is greengusgunkus Pilot?" Crichton probed. It sounded highly implausible to him but this was the Uncharted Territories so who could tell?  
  
"It is a liquid spray that congeals on contact with living tissue. It disables and immobilizes the victims, not fatal but it causes terrible irritation and is very, very difficult to get off," Pilot explained. "Moya does not want to be sprayed."  
  
"Are we within their range Pilot?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know," Pilot replied softly, "I wish I did. Moya is very worried."  
  
"Don't worry Pilot. It'll be okay. We won't let anything happen to Moya," Crichton promised. He turned to Chiana for inspiration. "So, where are we going to put them Pip? We can't have them meeting up with the Gilda."  
  
"Why not? Get Jenavia to introduce them and it might solve all our problems," Aeryn retorted as she walked in to the room.  
  
"Answer us!" The Chunga was still talking. "We want the one called Jenavia Chatto and her accomplice. We desire them. We will pay you well."  
  
That's not what I heard, thought Crichton. Hang on a minute. Accomplice? Them?  
  
"Them?" he asked pressing the comms button, although he had already worked out the answer.  
  
"You," came the Chunga's reply. "We will brook no refusal."  
  
"This just gets better and better," observed Aeryn, slowly shaking her head.  
  
Chiana waggled a grey finger at Crichton and said "Well, we can't pretend you're not here. You've blown that one. They've seen you. What are we going to do?".  
  
"This is ridiculous," snapped Aeryn. "John, you are a fool. Chiana and I will meet them. You had better go and get Jenavia."  
  
"Where is she?" asked Crichton meekly, deciding even a fool knew it was best not to argue with a pissed off Aeryn Sun.  
  
"Locked in the third tier waste funnel." Aeryn smiled and her eyes twinkled as she told him. She looked at Crichton, her whole demeanour challenging him to make a fuss. He returned her look with a shake of him head and a wry smile.  
  
"And ask her what the frell this is about," Aeryn added. "I want some answers. FAST."  
  
"Yes ma'am." Crichton gave a mock salute and exited Command on the double.  
  
Aeryn watched him leave, shaking her head. As he left he turned briefly and caught her eye. Her face was a blend of anger and bemusement.  
  
Aeryn reached across to the console next to her and pressed the blue comms button.  
  
"Gentlemen, I don't know your names and I don't know why you believe my friend is the man you seek but I will agree to your request to dock. There is, however, one condition. You will come unarmed, as a sign of good faith."  
  
"You harbour criminals. How do we know we can trust you? You might be one of them too. You are Sebacean, like them."  
  
"Do you want to come aboard or not," Aeryn demanded. Her patience was wearing thin.  
  
"Officer Sun!" Pilot cried, "I am distressed by your cavalier attitude to Moya's safety."  
  
"Sorry Pilot. Don't worry. Everything will be fine." Aeryn barely paused before returning to the Chunga. "Do we have a deal?"  
  
The purple-capped Chunga looked at his two companions. They both nodded. "We will comply," he confirmed.  
  
Aeryn turned to Pilot's monitor. "Pilot, where is D'Argo?"  
  
"Tier seven. He's showing the Gilda around the cells. The Gilda are very methodical Officer Sun and they are taking a very long time. They found three escape hatches in Rygel's quarters. I knew of only two. They will still be here when the Chunga arrive"  
  
"I know. I know. Frelling Crichton. What was he thinking!" Aeryn ran her hands across her pulled back hair, giving herself a moment to work out a plan.  
  
Crichton walked back in. "I've got an idea," he said.  
  
Chiana and Aeryn turned to face him.  
  
"You're supposed to be getting some answers from Jenavia," Aeryn said sharply. She sighed. "So, come on, tell us, what's your plan?"  
  
Crichton grinned. "You're gonna love this. We're going to take them to the galley. They look like Rygel, maybe they eat like him too. Rygel always takes a nap after food so we feed 'em up, get 'em drunk too maybe, and send them off to bye-byes." Crichton spread his arms wide as he unveiled his cunning ruse. He looked at Aeryn and then Chiana.  
  
'Bye-bye's' they both mouthed silently back at him, their faces sharing a blank look that always indicated a translator microbe failure.  
  
They did not appear impressed. Crichton was rather pleased with the idea. "Gotta be worth a try guys," he said.  
  
Chiana smiled. "We could spike it all with sleeping potion to make sure," she suggested.  
  
"Great idea Pip. We got any?"  
  
"Jools can rustle some up if we don't."  
  
"I hate to interrupt your scheming," said Aeryn, "but how is this supposed to help us?"  
  
"Chunga sleep while Gilda finish search and piss off home," explained Crichton. "Simple."  
  
"That still leaves us with the thorny problem of you. And Jenavia. And hung-over Chunga. What do you propose we do about that?"  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Quite. Actually Crichton, on second thoughts, you can go sort out your own mess. You explain it to the Chunga. I'll go see our friend and find out what the frell she did to piss them off as well. She won't pull the wool over my eyes." Aeryn asserted. She held Crichton's gaze for a moment and raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Okay, but be careful. Remember she carries stilettos in her wrists."  
  
"I am quite capable of looking after myself, thank you," she replied curtly.  
  
Crichton held up his hands in mock defence against her glare. " I was only saying."  
  
"Well, don't."  
  
"Has Jenavia done anything in particular to piss you off?" he asked.  
  
Aeryn gave a hollow laugh. "A particular thing? Which would you prefer?" The unwelcome visitors who threaten Moya or the fact she lied to us?"  
  
Crichton bit on his thumb. There was nothing he could say. She was right. Chiana was right. This was all his fault. Why had he trusted Jenavia? She only had one real loyalty and that was to herself. But she had come to his rescue three times. He wondered if there could possibly be a reasonable explanation for the Chungas arrival. He couldn't immediately think of one. He met Aeryn's gaze and said, "I'll get answers. I won't be lied to either."  
  
"I believe you. But that doesn't mean I'm prepared to let you question Jenavia instead of me."  
  
Crichton examined his thumb. He put it to his mouth and brought it down again. " Aeryn," he said softly, "she is a trained killer. If she doesn't want to tell you anything, she won't. But she might tell me. And if she doesn't, well, I'll find a way."  
  
Aeryn threw him a wide-eyed questioning stare.  
  
He chose to ignore it. He'd talk to her later. 


End file.
